Hum If You Don't Know the Words

by Bianca Marais

  “But you said you have a job as a secretary!”

  “Oh that,” Edith snorted. “That was a lie told for Wilhelmina’s benefit.”

  “But you said you gave her boss the paperwork.”

  “And I did. Very official-looking paperwork, too, thanks to a big favor from a friend. But in order to keep my sanity, I have to keep my job as an airhostess. I love traveling, I love the freedom. It’s my life, it’s who I am, and if you take that away from me, I won’t be any damn good to you.” She lit up another cigarette and put it straight back into the ashtray. It seemed that we were coming to the point of the conversation.

  “I probably only have another five years or so before I’m too old to be in the air, so I really have to take full advantage of that time I have left.” Edith looked to me for understanding and I nodded. “The thing is that I can’t travel all the time if I have to look after you.”

  “I can come with you.”

  “Ah, kiddo, I wish you could, but that’s not how it works. You have school starting next week and I’m not allowed to take you with me, and besides, even if I could, a child needs stability. Even I know that.”

  “So then what are you going to do? Are you giving me away?” My voice caught. We’d read about orphanages and I knew Cat and I would rather run away than live in one of them.

  “Of course not! Get that out of your head immediately. Listen to me, Robs, you are mine and I am yours. Whatever happens from here on out, no matter how much we screw each other up, we’re stuck with each other, okay? You can’t get rid of me.”

  I wiped away the tear that had escaped and nodded.

  “But I need help looking after you. I’ll limit my shifts as much as I can, but I’ll still be away a lot, which means I need someone who can look after you when I’m gone.”

  “Victor can look after me. I like Victor.”

  Edith smiled. “Yes, Victor is a lot of fun, but I’m afraid that won’t work. Victor works and he has his own place and he can’t live here and take care of you, and believe me, the sights you’d see at his place would mess you up more than anything I could do.”

  “What sights?”

  “Never you mind. We’re getting off track here. I’ve already found someone who can look after you. Well, actually, Maggie from the library found someone who can look after you.”

  “Who?” I was heartened by the mention of Maggie.

  Edith smiled nervously. “She’s a black lady.”

  “Mabel?”

  “No, not Mabel. She’s gone back home, kiddo, and I don’t think we’ll see her again.”

  “You got another maid?”

  “Well, I know it sounds like that, but she’s actually not a maid at all. She’s unlike any black lady you’ve met, and it’s important that we don’t treat her like a maid. She has a university degree from before the blacks were stopped from studying further, and she’s incredibly bright. She’s actually totally overqualified for this job but that’s beside the point. Think of her as a chaperone.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, it means she’ll live here when I’m away and she’ll take care of you.”

  “But I don’t want someone else to look after me.”

  “It’s only a temporary arrangement until I can come up with a better solution. Let’s just give it a try.”

  “But we don’t have a maid’s room. Where will she sleep?”

  “She’ll sleep in my room. In my bed.”

  “But that’s where I sleep.”

  “Yes, I know. I wish we could afford to get a bigger place, but we can’t for now. We’ll move the lounge around and get a partition over here and make you your own room. How does that sound?”

  “Why can’t I sleep in your room and she can sleep here in the lounge?”

  “Because she’s an adult, Robin, and she’s doing us a huge favor.”

  “But she’s black. Blacks don’t sleep inside with us. They sleep outside in their rooms.”

  “Yes, usually, but this isn’t a normal situation. We all need to make some concessions, okay, in order to make this work, but I really think that we can do it. When I’m away, she’ll stay here and look after you, and then when I’m back, I’ll look after you. I’ll still be able to earn an income and do what I love, and you’ll be properly taken care of.”

  “I don’t want a black mother. I want you.”

  Edith frowned. “Like I said, it isn’t a permanent situation, it’s just for a while and we’ll see how things go—” Before she could finish the thought, the phone rang and I leapt to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  A gravelly voice asked to speak with Edith. I motioned her over, covering the mouthpiece and whispering, “It’s a man.”

  Edith took the phone and I returned to the dining room table where I sat next to Cat trying to listen in as she greeted the caller.

  “You’ve found them?” Edith’s perfectly plucked eyebrows rose in surprise. “There were two of them?”

  As she listened, I could hear the man’s voice coming through the earpiece, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. I had to rely on Edith’s half of the conversation for more information.

  “But what about the third man? I was told three of them had been spotted running from the scene.”

  Edith listened to his reply and I could see by the expression on her face that she was skeptical about his answer. “And when do you expect the trial to begin?”

  Edith frowned at what she heard. The man was still talking but she cut him off. “Hold on, just hold on a second. What do you mean there won’t be a trial? We want to see justice done, it’s important—”

  The voice continued to drone and Edith shot me a quick look. I stared back, waiting.

  “They died in custody at Brixton? How?” Edith started tapping her nails on the table before she cried out in surprise. “Both of them? They both had an accident in police cells? How, pray tell, did that happen?”

  I didn’t really need to hear any more.

  Twenty-nine

  BEAUTY

  1 AUGUST 1976

  Melville, Johannesburg, South Africa

  I have more possessions now than a month and a half ago when I first made the trip to Soweto. All I had then was one small case filled with a few items of clothing and my bible. I thought it would be a short journey that would end with my returning to the Transkei with Nomsa; instead, it ended with my suitcase’s meager contents strewn across a battlefield. I could not retrieve my things from the street that day, as I did not want to invite evil into my life. I even threw away the clothes I had been wearing. How naive I was then to think that bad luck could be shed and that misery would never arrive unannounced.

  Maggie replaced everything for me during the time I was with her and then, on the night I fled the Houghton mansion for this safe house in Melville, another gift was bestowed.

  “Here, I’d like you to have this,” Maggie said, handing across a velvet box.

  I opened it and drew out a silver pendant hanging from a chain. I held it up to the light; it was a rendering of a holy man carrying a baby across water to safety.

  “I wanted to give you a proper gold Saint Christopher, but I’ve learnt that expensive gifts can attract unwanted attention,” Maggie said. “I give the pendants to the people I’ve met in the resistance whose friendship I most cherish.”

  “Thank you, Maggie,” I said, touched by her sincerity. “You chose the metal wisely. I could never have accepted gold.”

  “Because of its value?”

  “Because I know the men whose backs break and lungs fill with dust as they dig for it. No object’s value should ever be placed above the worth of a man’s life.”

  “You’re so right, of course you are. I can’t believe I never thought of it that way before. Turn it over,” Maggie said.


  I did. The back of the pendant was engraved with a single word: “Believe.” I asked Maggie to help put the necklace on, and when I turned around again, she wrapped her arms around me. We hugged tightly and it was an embrace filled with love.

  “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can organize papers for you. After that, we’ll arrange a meeting with Nomsa.”

  But in the week and a half since I have been at the safe house, Maggie’s intelligence has lost track of Nomsa’s whereabouts. While all of her people were scrambling to ensure they evaded the security police’s net, Nomsa was moved from the smallholding and the trail has gone cold. Maggie is confident that it is just a matter of time until a member of her network hears something, but I cannot just sit and wait.

  I am befriending everyone I come into contact with and am making my own inquiries through less official channels. What I am hearing makes me nervous. People say the man Nomsa is with, “Shakes” Ngubane, is a dangerous man, that he is violent and has a taste for alcohol and drugs, both of which he sells illegally along with stolen weapons. They say he preys on young girls and it is rumored he runs a brothel. I am more determined than ever to get my daughter away from him.

  Within five days, I will move out of the safe house and officially begin the job that Maggie has found for me, the one that has allowed me to get my passbook stamped. This has lifted a great weight from my shoulders as I can travel between Johannesburg and the Transkei without fear. If I am to remain in the city indefinitely while searching for Nomsa, I need to be able to return home as often as I can to see the faces of my sons, and to assure them that I am doing everything in my power to return their sister to them.

  Though I am now classified as a maid, I will not labor as so many of our unfortunate sisters do. My employer, Edith, is a white woman, and though she cannot be compared to Maggie, she is also not one of the madams who will have us break our backs to do their work. She is illegally placing her almost-daughter in my care while she leaves the country for her work, and she knows the great responsibility I have accepted. We understand one another, and so far, she has treated me with respect. In the past, my pride would never have allowed me to take up such a position, but now I shed my pride like a snake casting off its skin.

  The weather will soon be changing. The wind is blowing and I can smell that the rains are on their way. The time for planting mielies and pumpkins is almost upon us, and I pray that Nomsa and I will both be home in time for the sowing of the seeds. I will do as Maggie says and I will believe.

  Thirty

  ROBIN

  2 AUGUST 1976

  Yeoville, Johannesburg, South Africa

  Edith was in the lounge with the black woman. They weren’t whispering exactly, but they were talking softly enough that I wasn’t able to eavesdrop from the bathroom. I made a show of flushing the toilet and spraying three long blasts of air freshener.

  See? I’m not hiding in here to listen in on your conversation—I have real business to attend to!

  When I stepped out into the lounge, Edith’s head snapped up and she became businesslike. “Right, I’ll leave you two alone to get acquainted. Beauty, I have a meeting with the airline to finalize my new flight schedule, and then I need to get the last of Robin’s school supplies for tomorrow. I should be back before supper and I’ll pick us up something to eat if you’d like to join us for dinner. I was thinking of pork chops.”

  “I am sorry, but I do not eat pork, Edith.”

  “Of course. Sorry, I forgot that you people don’t eat pig. Mabel didn’t eat it either, hey, Robs?”

  “Hmm.” I’d seated myself at the dining room table across from Beauty where I could properly size her up. She was older than Mabel, and I could see a few tiny gray curls escaping from her doek. Her features were also more sunken and stark than Mabel’s. Mabel had been plump while Beauty was gaunt. When I peeked under the table, I saw she wore black court shoes rather than the slippers Mabel wore around the house, and her stockings bunched up around her thin ankles like loose skin. She looked tired but she had bright, watchful eyes. They made me nervous.

  Edith pecked me on the cheek and instructed me to behave before heading for the door. She turned back after a few steps and spoke to Beauty. “Maggie said you’re staying with a friend nearby until I leave on Friday. Robin’s bed and partition will be delivered on Thursday, and I’ve already bought the extra bedding. We’ll be set up in time so don’t worry about that. I’m just glad you’re able to spend some time with us before then.” Edith blew a kiss to me and then left, closing the door behind her.

  Silence settled over us. Beauty sat stiffly in her chair, still clutching a small kitbag and looking around the room. The clock ticked nearby.

  “She looks nice,” Cat said.

  “Mabel was nice too,” I reminded her.

  “Yes, we loved Mabel,” Cat agreed.

  “She left us.” I let Cat feel the pang I’d felt that morning, the utter helplessness and despair. I let her remember what it was like to watch someone you loved walk away from you without so much as a backwards glance. “Do you want to feel like that again one day when Beauty leaves?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Good.”

  My stomach growled and I turned my attention to Beauty. “What are you making me for breakfast?”

  Beauty’s gaze shifted from the wall of treasures to my face. She studied it for so long that I started to get uncomfortable and was relieved when she finally spoke. “What do you normally eat?”

  “Jungle Oats or Maltabella.”

  “Then that is what I will make. I will call you when it is ready.”

  “Okay.” I hopped off the chair, relieved to have an excuse to escape. Being around Beauty, even for those few moments, brought back so many memories of Mabel that I didn’t know how to process. I was learning, every day, how to mourn my parents and how to express the hundreds of ways in which I missed them, but my pain at Mabel’s leaving of her own accord was a wound I was still trying to clean and bandage up.

  Cat followed me into the bedroom where my new school uniform was hung up in the cupboard. It was a checked white-and-blue all-in-one dress and I thought it was wonderful. Just being rid of the ugly brown-and-yellow uniform I used to wear almost made up for the fact that I’d have to make new friends and meet new teachers. Trying on the uniform and staring at my reflection in Edith’s full-length mirror helped distract me from the butterflies that swooped around in my stomach.

  “Why can’t I come to school with you?” Cat asked.

  “Maybe you can. I haven’t decided yet. It depends on how things go.” What I meant, but didn’t need to say, was that it depended on if I made friends or not.

  “How are you going to do your hair tomorrow?”

  “Don’t know yet. What do you think?” We played around with a few practice styles and had just decided that pigtails, rather than a single pony, were the way to go when Beauty called me to come through.

  As I made my way to the table and pulled out my chair, Beauty eyed my dress. “What are you wearing?”

  “My new uniform.” I was about to sit down when Beauty placed her hand on my shoulder to stop me.

  “Please take it off before you eat.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you might mess on it.”

  “I won’t mess.”

  “But—”

  “I said I won’t mess.” I sat down and started eating.

  Beauty returned with her own bowl of porridge and sat across from me and started eating. I eyed her warily. It looked like she was eating from the usual crockery, which my mother never would have allowed, but I didn’t say anything. She smelled different from Mabel and spoke differently too; she articulated her words better and spoke English very formally.

  I miss Mabel-English. I miss Mabel.

  “Where’s Cat’s breakfast
?” I asked, purely to fill the silence and distract myself from getting too morbid.

  “I put it down in front of her. Can you not see it?”

  Edith must have told Beauty about Cat, which was annoying. I wondered if I was being humored or made fun of. “Why don’t you wear a uniform?”

  “Because I am not a maid.”

  “Oh. But you look like a maid.”

  “How does a maid look?”

  “Like you. A black lady. So if you aren’t a maid, what are you then?”

  “I am a teacher.”

  “There are no black teachers.”

  “Not at your school, no. I teach black children.”

  “Black children go to school?”

  “Yes, they have their own schools.”

  “In QwaQwa?”

  Beauty looked surprised at my question and impressed by my semi-decent pronunciation. She smiled at me for the first time. “You know QwaQwa?”

  “That’s where Mabel lives.”

  She nodded. “I teach in the Transkei.”

  I persisted with my questioning. “So if you’re really a teacher, what are you doing here looking after me?”

  “I need to stay in Johannesburg for a while, and in order to do so, I need a passbook. And for that, I need to have a job.”

  I knew about passbooks; I’d seen Mabel’s and had asked my mother to get me one because it looked important and official, but she said white people didn’t need passbooks, which I thought was a great pity. “Why do you need to stay in Johannesburg?”

  “My daughter is missing and I need to find her.”

  “Did she run away from home?” I’d tried to run away from home once when I was four. I’d packed a plastic bag full of picture books and told Mabel I was leaving. She bid me farewell and gave me a sandwich for the trip in case I got hungry. Then she followed me for three blocks while I dragged the bag behind me. The bag soon tore and the books fell out, and I made Mabel pick them up before I headed back home, having decided that running away was too much hard work.